Angels and Demons
by The End of Always
Summary: Hogwarts is inside Hermione's head...but what will happen when she meets the beautiful, suicidal Draco Malfoy in the psych ward? AU, obviously. Trigger warnings for many things. Dramione. Will be multichapter as soon as I actually write more. :) Please R and R!


5:00 AM (Hermione)

Hermione lay under the scratchy, salmon covers of her cot and stared at the ceiling. The anorexic girl in the bed next to her whimpered in her sleep, but Hermione was too busy wallowing in her own misery to care.

"Honey, it's only for a little while. Your father and I are worried about you. We think a little stay there might help you, and the nurses will take good care of you. We'll come visit you." Mrs. Granger tried to hug Hermione, but Hermione jerked backwards out of reach.

"I HATE YOU! Both of you! How can you send me away like this? Its just a daydream, I'm not insane!" Hermione burst into tears and collapsed against the wall. Her father put his hand on her shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort her.

"Of course you're not insane, darling. But you're hearing voices, and that's not healthy. We have to get you help. We're supposed to check you in tomorrow morning. It's only until you're better."

Hermione rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. It smelled strongly of laundry detergent. It was only her first night, but already she could feel the very air stifling her. Inside her head, Harry and Ron tried to comfort her, but even they talked more quietly here. She wished the doctor would at least give her stronger sleep medication. He'd diagnosed her with schizophrenia, but she also suffered from chronic insomnia. It was during the night that she usually attended classes at Hogwarts, the world her mind had created, but here the night noises were unfamiliar and she couldn't escape. At home she knew every creak, every last groan of the old walls, but here the sounds startled her with their newness.

5:30 AM (Draco)

"You stupid, pathetic, fucking faggot! You are not worthy of the name Malfoy!" Draco cowered on the floor, arms up protecting his face. Lucius lifted his cane, topped with a snakehead with gleaming silver fangs, and brought it down on Draco until he screamed for mercy. Bloodied and almost unconscious, he looked over at his mother for help. Narcissa turned away and locked herself in the bathroom. Narcissa Malfoy valued her own safety far more than that of her son.

"Your mommy isn't coming to save you, Draco. No one is, because no one could ever love someone like you. You disgust me." Lucius slapped Draco hard across the face, and Draco tasted blood. He hoped it was bad. He hoped he was dying. "So weak, and so pathetic. Poor wittle baby Draco's been cutting himself, has he? When was the last time you ate, dear Draco? Hmm? Malfoys aren't fucked up weaklings, so you'd better make sure you're perfect, or this will seem like a walk in the park compared to what you'll get next time."

"Yes, father."

"What did you just call me?" "I mean yes, sir! No, no, please no, don't hurt me anymore! Please!" Lucius raised his hand for one last blow.

Draco woke up screaming, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. Every night he dreamed of his father, and every night they had to sedate him to calm him down. He'd been rescued a few weeks ago when his mother had finally decided to call the police, but he still refused to cooperate with the doctors. He wouldn't talk to anyone. He never wanted to speak again.

At 6:00, just like every other monotonous morning, a nurse turned on the lights and told them to be in the cafeteria by 6:30. Draco slid out of his cot, his pajamas hanging off his skinny, still malnourished frame. His feet were bare and the laminate floor was freezing, but Draco didn't care. He could barely feel it. He could barely feel anything at all.

6:30 AM (Hermione)

Breakfast that morning was mushy cereal with skim milk. Hermione wished it was Friday. On Friday's they apparently served pancakes for the patients – her new acquaintance Lillian had told her that. According to Lillian they were usually quite grainy, but a million times better than psych ward cereal.

After breakfast, Hermione started walking back to the room she shared with two other girls, while nurses were assigned to the patients they couldn't trust to be alone. Hermione didn't self harm, have an eating disorder, or display suicidal tendencies, so she was allowed to walk around unsupervised, though she was still supposed to take part in daily activities.

She was almost back to the dorm when she saw him.

He looked like an angel. So sad, and so cold, but beautiful. Blond hair fell in waves almost down to his shoulders, and his sunken eyes were a faded sort of blue. His skin looked almost bleached, and Hermione wondered when he had last seen the sun.

She looked at him, and he looked at her. And then she blinked, and he ran. She wandered back to her room in a daze, wondering how an angel had ended up in the psych ward.

7:00 AM (Draco) No. No. No. She didn't see me. She looked through me, just like everyone else. Draco told himself so over and over again. She hadn't seen him. She couldn't have. No one ever saw him. He didn't want to be seen. He wanted to fade away and disappear forever.

But she had looked so lost. Lost like him. Maybe…no. It just wasn't possible.

Draco sat silently through his therapy session, like he always did. He was surprised they bothered to send him there anymore. It had been three weeks and he hadn't said a word. He kept a journal, but he kept it hidden. It was mostly poems. And the occasional suicide note. When he reached the unused supply closet that he had claimed as his own, he locked the door behind him and pulled out his journal from underneath a pile of towels. Opening it to a clean page, he began to write.

I'm not a ghost. Someone saw me today. Next attempt in two days.

His entries were always short, and at the end he kept a countdown to his next suicide attempt. There had been five so far, and it was slowly getting harder to find time alone. This time he had to succeed, or he knew the hospital staff would put him on suicide watch for the next fifty years or so. He'd managed to steal and take apart one of the razor blades they loaned out to more trustworthy patients so they could shave, and he was planning to slit his wrists. Overdosing hadn't worked, and his father had caught him with the gun and given him a beating he still remembered clearly.

7:30 AM (Hermione)

"Of course this happening inside your head, Hermione. Why on earth should that mean that it isn't real?" Hermione shook her head violently to silence Dumbledore's voice. She knew, of course she knew, that her friends and teachers lived only in her head, but at least they cared about her.

"Is something wrong, dear?" A nurse bustled around, fluffing up pillows and patting patients on the shoulder.

"No, no, I'm fine, thanks." The nurse left, and Hermione sat down on her bed. She traced the lines on the palm of her hand, listening to the Weasley twins arguing playfully in her head. The anorexic girl next to her rocked back and forth, eyes empty. Hermione looked away and started humming the Hogwarts theme song quietly.

Without warning, her mind strayed to the angel boy. Hermione wondered what his name was. What he'd done to end up here. She decided she would look for him during their afternoon free time.

12:00 PM (Draco)

Draco's heart pounded in his chest like it was trying to escape. Useless. Pathetic. Weak. His father's insults echoed in his ears, and Draco was powerless against pressed his hands over his ears, teeth gritted, and rocked back and forth in his supply cabinet. He was trapped, locked in, there wasn't any food, he was going to starve, he deserved to starve.

When Draco came to, her was curled up in a fetal position, trembling. He checked his watch. Shit. They were probably looking for him – he'd been in the supply closet for three hours. He hurriedly hid his journal and checked on his blade one last time. It was still there. Then he slipped out of the room like a ghost, padding silently down the hall towards his room. The people in the halls didn't notice him. They never did. He was just a shadow to them, a pale shadow with waves of faded gold hanging down over his faded blue eyes. He was just an echo. He didn't belong.

3:00 PM (Hermione)

Hermione cringed as the door creaked loudly. She breathed a sigh of relief when no one gave her a second glance. It was free time, after all. And it wasn't like she was on suicide watch. I'm just another psycho in a ward full of psychos.

It would have helped if she knew what she was looking for, or where to look. She just knew that she wanted to see the angel again.

After half an hour of wandering around in circles, she was ready to give up. She wasn't even lost – the hospital was so well sign-posted that she couldn't even lose herself, no matter how hard she tried.

That was when she saw him. A flash of gold, of fear. What could possibly scare an angel?

Hermione hurried after him, just managing to keep him in her sight. He was skinny, too skinny, like he hadn't had enough to eat in a very long time. There were scars running up his right arm, and she wondered what had been done to him.

When they reached a fairly empty hallway, she called out to him. "Wait! Please wait!"

He stopped suddenly, his back stiff. Hermione wondered how long it had been since someone had asked him to do something instead of telling him to.

"Are you an angel?" She mentally slapped herself as soon as she said it, but it was all she could think to say.

He turned around, and she looked into his eyes. They were haunted, but not quite empty, not like some people in the psych ward. His eyes still held the possibility of life.

"N-no." His voice rasped, like he hadn't used it in a long time. He coughed, then tried again. "I'm just a person."

"You're not just a person. You're special. I can tell." She smiled at him, and he looked stunned but also afraid.

"I'm nothing. Nobody." He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself.

4:00 (Draco)

What do I do? She's talking to me. I'm talking to her! What do I do? I can't fuck this up. I can't.

"Shall we walk? We look a bit odd just standing here in the hallway, don't you think," the girl said to him with a shy smile.

"I know somewhere we can go." Shit. Shit. I can't take her there. It's my place. But she's the first person who's seen me, and actually spoken to me, not just at me.

"Okay. Lead the way then, angel boy."

Why does she keep calling me an angel?

Draco led Hermione to his supply closet and, after checking they hadn't been followed, let her in and locked the door behind them.

"This is my safe place. I hide here sometimes." Hermione looked around at the musty closet, and Draco cringed inwardly. Of course this was a stupid idea. Now she was going to laugh at him and tell him how pathetic he was. Maybe he could distract her first. "What's your name?"

"Hermione. What's yours?"

"Draco."

"So Draco, what's your story?"

"My story?"

"Yup. Everyone in here has a sob story. What's yours?"

"Well what's yours?"

"I'm a schizo. I have a whole world inside my head. I don't see anything wrong with it, but apparently my parents do, because yesterday they checked me in here. Assholes."

"I – um." Draco shivered slightly, debating whether to trust this strange girl who just barged into his life and called him an angel. She trusted him with her story. Maybe he had to try and trust her. Not that he really trusted anyone. But maybe this girl wasn't like that man who was not his father."I have PTSD, depression, and anorexia. The police checked me in after they rescued me because they didn't know what else to do with me."

Hermione nodded, and didn't pry any further. Draco was proud of himself for trusting her, and shocked that she was still apparently not repulsed by him.

7:00 (Hermione)

It was only when she checked her watch that she realized that she and Draco had been talking for three hours. Draco's voice had slowly lost the raspiness that came with disuse, but he still kept his secrets. She supposed it was only fair. He'd only met her earlier that day.

"We should probably go to dinner. Otherwise they'll look for us."

Draco grimaced. "Especially me. They take points away if I don't eat. Not that I really care, but they hover over my shoulder and watch me eat to make sure I actually swallow the stuff."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Pretentious assholes. Anyway, can…can we meet again tomorrow?" She didn't want to push him too far. She'd never seen him at dinner before, so she presumed he ate separately when he ate at all. People seemed to scare him.

"Tomorrow morning, 9:00? Right after arts and crafts?"

"Sure thing. See you then, Draco."

Draco held the door for Hermione and watched as she walked down the hall. He was confused. She…she seemed to like spending time with him. How strange. And he sort of liked spending time with her. "See you tomorrow, Hermione."


End file.
